I Really Just Want To Be Alone… Rant…

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It’s funny how little things can bring up some big emotions. Here I sit, almost 2am, watching the final season of “How I Met Your Mother” that I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch yet because it was “our show”. I haven’t watched “Breaking Bad”, and even watching “The Walking Dead” is difficult. My head hurts, my body hurts, and my heart hurts. For no other reason than remembering everything I lost. I am not just referring to the relationship that messed me up mentally more than any other relationship I have had, but everything that I felt I lost at the same time. My life, my youth. My everything. Being diagnosed with any autoimmune disease is hard. Beyond hard.

The past few days I have felt really alone. I honestly WANT to be alone, simply because it seems the people around me just aren’t there. They are somewhere else, and that is ok. I have been ignored, yelled at, pestered, questioned, and exhausted the last few weeks. I have been in the hospital, in and out of the Dr office, and pumped full of drugs. I have curled up in pain due to what we later found out was an obstruction. I have missed so much work, I am about to lose all my benefits… which is what pays for my medications. My radiator had to be replaced. Then a fuse blew. And my life at work has gotten hostile due to my absence. I am aware that others think I get special treatment and should have been fired already. I can hear them talk, and see the looks. I just ignore them because they have no idea who I am, and they have no bearing on any decision.

After a terrible few weeks, three of my sisters decided to throw me a “girly night”. When they arrived with snacks, pedicure items, nail polish, and so many other pampering items, I was so surprised! bigstock-Group-women-with-facial-mask--36733561 I can no longer drink, which has been our favorite sister past time for YEARS, so they decided to do the traditional girls night theme. Though, they did bring beer for themselves. They also brought Cujo. My sister Blondie’s (not her real name) awesome rottweiler, who scares the living bejeesus out of my rabbit. Cujo just turned 10, and has no interest in my terrified little buddy, however she was not happy with this situation and spent the entire time in her burrow in her habitat. It was such a loving and happy gesture, and was SO much fun that we decided to commit ourselves to it every month or two. I was so pleased with my overdone nails, silly toenail polish and awesome face mask thingy they bought me… until… I got a message from one of my other sisters.

My mom had three girls. The oldest who we shall call “Hippy”, one we shall call “Tinky” and myself. Hippy and Tinky both tend to feel like the odd man out. The “black sheep” of the family. Them, along with a few other siblings, tend to feel left out of family functions and often forgot about. tumblr_n5e597uyTa1rfm88zo1_250 With 19 kids in my family, I can imagine there are plenty of family occurrences that I am not only not invited to, but will never know about. Such is life. I don’t take it personally, as I know my family loves me. That being said.. Hippy apparently does not feel the same.

I have spent the last two days dealing with drama between Hippy and my sister we shall call “Retro” (She looks so good in retro styled outfits and hair). Retro and Hippy had a falling out a few years ago over their personal lives clashing together in a way that turning into a car wrecking, plane crashing, train wrecking mess! It was nasty. And I tried to stay out of it because I know how both of them are. Hippy is very set in her ways, though she thinks she is very enlightened and open minded. She really is not. I know she means well, so I tend to just ignore what she says to me, though half of it is actually really mildly insulting. She doesn’t mean harm, and truly thinks she is helping. I get this. Retro does not, and takes the insults as insults. Which I completely understand as well. Retro, on the other hand, can be downright mean (much like myself) and really go at it when she is angered. Long story as short as I can make it… they have not made up, and I honestly don’t think they ever will.

Hippy has taken this loving gesture by three of my awesome sisters and turned it into some kind of rejection of her as a sister. She took a great night that I enjoyed so much, spending time with my family, and made it about her. I have missed being able to do anything because of my health so much! My sisters that came, Blondie, Retro, and Beatles (We used to sing Beatles songs at a goth club on karaoke night) took the time and effort to do this for me. However Hippy has been harassing me for two days now, venting about her falling out with Retro. I have been trying my hardest to be as supportive as I can, but I am drained. I just want to tell her to leave me alone and let me be, because her emotional issues with the family is not my problem, but I can’t. redhead-blonde-brunette-300x225 I love all of my siblings, and I can’t just push them away when they are hurting. But I am hurting as well, and I am so frustrated that a kind thing 1/3 of my sisters did for me turned into an ordeal about Hippy. I can’t understand why she would do that. Why she can’t allow me to actually be friends with my other sisters as well without feeling as though she is being thwarted. We are all adults.. I don’t get it.

So, here I am at 2am. Alone, watching a TV show that is bringing up old feelings of being lost, and losing love. Recovering from my Monday routine of physical therapy and work.. dealing with my life as it is, and feeling so anxious over others problems. I haven’t felt this alone in awhile. It’s odd because I want to be alone at the same time. Alone because I can’t stand to hear about other people’s problems that I can’t fix. Alone because I am tired of feeling like I have to constantly defend myself. Alone because I am tired of life as it stands right now.

I don’t like being lonely… but I like being alone. I like being alone because of all of the above! Because I am not missing him, but missing a life before I was like I am now. A life where I could move around. Go hiking if I wanted to. To be free to run, and jump around. To be healthy enough to drink, dammit! A am not mourning him.. I am mourning me. Over time I have realized that what I thought was lingering love is actually not love at all. It is the feelings I harbor about my life. He just happened to be there when my life started to fall apart. When my health went downhill. When I found out that I had the same illness as my grandmother, but diagnosed 30 years before she was, he was there. Only he wasn’t. He had been long gone far before that camping trip. In all honesty, he never was there. I was alone in that battle, and I was trying to convince myself that I would find the solution. That I had him. That I wasn’t alone at all, when in all reality I was. I have been so afraid of being alone since. Alone in my illness. Alone in my pain. Alone in all that I do.

download There is a difference between being alone and lonely. Tonight I am enjoying being alone.. but I am lonely. I do not want anyone to fill this void of loneliness. I want to feel the loneliness. I want to accept it. Because if I can’t get rid of this anxiety welling inside me, anxiety that is keeping me up far too late… I won’t ever be ok.

So, here I sit, now 2:11am. Trying to throw off all the bullshit I endured the last two days. How I want to be alone, and possibly stay alone. I am reminded of how selfish and hurtful other human can be, simply because others were kind in a way that they didn’t see fit. How one can attach feelings in all the wrong places. How I just want to be alone.

I really just want to be alone.

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Waking Hours

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I woke up this morning to my teenager tapping me on the arm and wiggling me around. I had asked her to make sure I woke up to my alarm, as I tend to sleep through all 9 that I set. I have a hard time sleeping, but when I sleep, I sleep hard. It was 6:15am. I did NOT want to get up. Of course I moaned and groaned about it, slipping in and out of sleep, for another 30 minutes until I finally dragged my ass out of bed. Usually I get the girls dressed, get myself dressed, then do my hair and makeup with whatever time I had left. I decided that today I was too lazy to go up and down the stairs so much, so I would do hair and makeup first.

Once my eyes got used to the light, I stood in front of the mirror. Mascara smeared below my eyes from yesterday, and my hair all over the place. I washed my face, wiped all the left over makeup off that I was too lazy to address last night, and stared at myself again. “My hair is a wreck”, I thought. I had mildly wet/damp hair when I went to bed the night before, not even bothering to pull it up or deal with what it would be tomorrow. Standing there now I decided I should have rethought this. I could put my hair up in a ponytail or bun, but that would risk me getting a headache I always gets from pulling my crazy locks up. My natural hair has a lot of volume and a kind of beachy waves meets afro curls kind of thing going on. “Hair cream?”
I ran my fingers through the mess on top of my head, hanging upside down for good measure, like we have all seen women do, and rubbing in the hair cream as much as I could. Standing straight again I looked myself over. Still a mess. I no longer cared. Applying a small amount of powder to my skin, brown liner and powder to my eye lids, and a bit of mascara I threw on my glasses and headed downstairs.

There was my 7 year old, short blond bobbed hair a mess and no shoes or socks, playing MineCraft like always. I became the meanest mommy on the planet when I shut the game off without even addressing her defiance. The hair and shoes battle was mighty, but I won! On most levels. She didn’t speak to or look at me until I dropped her off in front of her school 20 minutes later. The littlest was so proud of herself for finding a purple dress that looks like a shirt and skirt, but is one piece before I had to ask her to do so. She is not allowed to wear dresses or skirts without anything underneath, and was EXTRA proud of the jean shorts she hid under the frills of the outfit. She paired it with black boots, and her adorable little curls. Her light brown skin dawned a bandaid on her leg, a few uncovered scratches, some random food on her cheek, and the typical bruising an extremely active (yet clumsy) 4 year old has. She looked like a perfect little bruised up doll!

Turning to find my own clothes in the pile of laundry sitting in a basket in my living room, I noticed some teenage angst stewing on a chair at the dining table. “I hate my fat butt!”, she told me. I couldn’t help but laugh, but I understand where she is coming from. From the time I was a young teenager I have been graced with a curvy body as well. People thinking I was 17, sometimes even 18, from the age 13 and up, I was deemed a full grown woman before I even knew how to handle that or my own body. She is no different. She complained in that awesome teenager tone about going up three pants sizes in one summer, though she has not gained that much weight. Sifting through the laundry for my own clothes for the day, I just shook my head because I know exactly how she feels, but I also know there is nothing that can be done about it.

I have been trying to complain less to people I know, though my pain levels and misery hasn’t really changed. I recently went to a new gastroenterologist who told me I have both IBS, as well as a section of my lower intestines that is damaged. I have developed both hemorrhoids and polyps on the inside of my gut which are the cause of the bleeds. HE gave me the choice to either go have the section of my intestines removed, which can cause risk of incontinence, or to do a non invasive scoping. The scoping will consist of them going in, finding an issue area and literally putting a tiny rubberband around the polyp. This will then cut off circulation and cause it to fall off. We will go in every three weeks and do this. There is slight risk for hemorrhaging, as well as infection, however it is SIGNIFICANTLY lower than if we did surgery. I obviously chose the banding procedure. So lovely.

On a positive note my leg is healing well, and I am out of the boot. I am now driving again (2 weeks!) and am in the brace. My Dr said that he doesn’t need to see me again for the break unless something else happens, or if the physical therapist thinks that I need to go back. The pain is still in my leg, and I have a funny limp now, but that might go away after time. We talked about both my right and my left leg, as I tore ligaments in both while only breaking the right. I still have stronger pains in the my ankles than I ever did before the accident, and he said that after damage like this, I can expect to have stronger pains for about 18-24 months. Sometimes the pain sticks around. It is impossible to tell. I am, however, free to return to the cycling and elliptical exercise if I wish. I can swim, walk, etc without the brace, if comfortable. I just need to cry not to trip over my own damn feet and cause another accident. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

As I sit down at my desk, I am reminded of the shoulder pain that has not gone away, and the new shoulder pain on the left side of my body. I don’t want to go see another orthopedic surgeon about my issues with my shoulders, as now I have had my ankles, knees, hands, elbows, guts, spine, neck, and shoulders addressed. The major ones causing me to see a specialist and rack up even more past due medical bills. I am just not excited to do either. I figure I will give it time to see if it resolves, and if in a few months they are STILL this bad, I will go in to see my Rheumatologist specifically. At least he will be educated enough on my body to send me to someone legit, like he did with my gastro. I hated my last gastro! Reaching for the mouse hurts. Typing hurts. Moving my arm around back and forth from the mouse to the keyboard hurts. What is new about pain, right? New pain doesn’t always equate to new symptoms, however.

I keep thinking about chronic illness as a whole. When you have a chronic illness you really have to monitor your body, food, activities, and life. It is much harder to “be up for anything” because anything could literally knock me on my ass and cause me to be bedridden for a month! I have been very good about my activity limitations, and though I want to get out there more, I keep coming up with excuses. Yes, they may be legitimate reasons, but they feel like excuses.

My leg is broken.

I am flaring.

I am too tired.

I want to use my energy for something else.

The kids will wear me out.

I can’t afford it right now.

I can’t risk getting hurt.

All of these are legitimate, but all of these can be applied to ANY situation I want to get out of. Yes, I need to be careful, but I feel like my careful has become “hermit-full” and is no longer me just trying to keep my body together. I woke up this morning, and made choices on how I was going to begin my day. I actually feel pretty decent, minus the shoulder pains. I can walk; I have a limp, but I can walk! I can drive! I can move, and get around. I can still laugh and smile! I can still be just as fun. I am still me inside, I swear it! I just need to stop making excuses.

I truly have to find some extra motivation every day. Motivation to get up, dressed, makeup, hair, etc. Sometimes my day ends up like today. Messy hair, half assed makeup, and simple jeans/plain t-shirt/tennis shoes combo. Other days can end up with a bun, others I can go to work looking like I just came from the salon. But I know my body more than I used to, and each day I can motivate myself to do what is within my limits. I choose what those limits are used for. The dishes can wait. The laundry can sit in the livingroom. The bathrooms can get wiped down tomorrow. Today I am going swimming with my kids.

I woke up today, which is more than I can say for so many who suffer from medical ailments. What are you going to do with your waking hours?

You’re Not Preferred..

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So here I sit. It is past 2am, I am in desperate need for a shower, and my mind is racing a million miles per hour.

My leg is almost healed, and though I am supposed to be going to physical therapy twice a week, I have yet to do so. I want to get my car back down to me (it is getting registered by my lovely mom right now since I work the hours to get it done) and then make the appointments. My ankle is still achy, and feels tight. My toes are half numb all the time, but apparently that is normal with this kind of break. Could take years to get the feeling back, if ever. I am still wearing my boot to work, but wear an athletic brace at home. I am still very inactive, and because of this I have gotten even FATTER! I am not really concerned about how I look right now, as I am more worried about getting my health back on track. I eat decently healthy most of the time, but am VERY inactive due to the illnesses/flares I have endured lately as well as the broken leg. I haven’t been this fat in over 10 years. SO strange to have my clothes not fit me again. To be the fat one waddling around the office. I am not really self conscious, because once again, I am more worried about other things. The time will come when I can be more active, and my useless piled on weight will start to fall off again. Now is not that time.. but I have been thinking a bit..

When I was thinner, just about 18 months ago, I actually looked pretty good. I was larger than I wanted by about 20 lbs, but I looked great for having 4 kids. I was then, as I am now, pretty confident in myself. There was only one problem: Him. Jeff. I remember feeling so good about myself, and often times very sexy. I would walk the halls at work, and know I was attractive. I would go home, let my hair down, wash my face and STILL feel so beautiful and attractive. Then the conversation would come up, and I would be reminded that he wanted me thinner. man-checking-out-other-woman He was interested in thinner women. I was LARGER than he preferred, “but he loved me anyway”. I have never understood the ‘love you anyway’ concept in a relationship. If you love someone, you love them how they are. You do not prefer a better version of them. Especially a version you have never seen, or maybe they have never been!! Knowing your sexual and emotional partner prefers someone who is smaller than you are, especially when going through health issues (I was two years into my dilemma) is incredibly hurtful. I remember standing in front of the mirror, tears streaming down my face, as I poked at the soft spots I knew he was referring to. I had given birth to, and fed 4 babies with my body. I was going through the worst pain and misery I had in my entire life with my health, and I wasn’t good enough in his eyes.

“I prefer…” – This can be such a crushing moment for anyone. Male or female. A woman tells a man she prefers men who are hairless; to her wolf like mate. “I prefer hairless men… but I love you anyway.” – This stands that there is STILL a preference, a BETTER version, if you will, of the person standing before them. “I prefer women with larger breasts… but I love you anyway.” – Here stands a crushed woman, knowing that he would much prefer her body be so different, instead of cherishing and loving every inch. We all have “preferences” of the kind of mate we go after, but if you are pursuing a person who does not fit your most wanted qualities, what are you doing? Now, that is not always the case. Sometimes someone is not your type, and yet you fall madly for them for the wonderful person they are. What then? Do you inform them of your preferences and let them know you “love them” despite them being somewhat unattractive to you? I know it is such a fine line to cross, but it is one that in a relationship you do not want to barge through. It has been over 15 months since we split, and here I am, still wounded knowing a man I was with did not accept my body as it was. Nor did the man before him post baby. I can’t help but to wonder what kind of men I get myself involved with that would be so unaccepting and unloving of such a beautiful thing as a mother’s body.

So here I sit, 2:30am on a Monday morning. I need to be up for work in 6 hours, and I still haven’t showered. Thinking on what my body means to me and to others. I look at my swollen belly, my oversized arms, and my “thunder thighs” and can’t help but to think what a mess they would think me to be. How judged I would be by those who I have shared my bed with. How they would likely scowl and make jokes of my current health problems.

art-SHE-fat-20130606193605324870-620x349 “She’s gotten so fat!”

“Wow! I really dodged a bullet there!”

“Ew! Look at that! Good thing I am not with her anymore! DAMN!”

“No wonder she is still single! GROSS!”

Once again, looking over my body, I can’t help to see what I am. A tough girl. A very, very tough woman. I am what I am right now, and I accept what I am. I prefer to look over myself and think:

“I live through this pain every day. My body carries a heavy weight right now, both physically and emotionally. My body is strong in all it’s weakness. I am amazing. I am beautiful. Each and every inch of me is perfect just as I am right now. One day at a time.”

I don’t look in the mirror and see my fat. The rolls on me even seem foreign and strange to me some days. What I see is beautiful me. I see a strong woman who is fighting with all that she has for herself, and her family. For her health and her love. Getting my life as collected as possible, all while fighting a painful and hard battle. I do not see someone who needs to change. I see what I am today made by my decisions thus far. I do not see someone who is unattractive and unwanted. I see a beautiful, strong woman who can take anything that is thrown her way! Anything that tries to knock her down is thwarted, and she rises. The pounds on the scale do not bother me like they did when I was with him. I weighed myself multiple times a week when we were together. I measured, sucked in, cried… sobbed even… and felt awful about myself almost daily. I was “not enough” – “not preferred” but tolerated. Waiting for me to change into the women he thought I should be, while I accepted him (Not gracefully, I must admit. I suck at relationships) just as he was. There was no “preferred” him I wanted. There was just… him. As much as he thought otherwise, I assume from his want for me to be different, I loved him as he was. Every inch, pound, hair, and big nose on him. Perhaps that is why his words of hurt have lingered for so long… but perhaps it is part of why I am what I am today. Why I can look in the mirror now and say, “Fuck that dude. You are awesome!” – And poke myself in my jiggly belly, because I know that tomorrow is another day, and everything about me today is perfect. Every flaw. Every stretch mark. Every little imperfection anyone else would see. I am me, and I am awesome.

Rain…

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I used to love the rain so much! The sight, smell, feel, everything! In many ways I still do. It’s my favorite time to do photography. It’s still just as beautiful as ever! However, my body doesn’t seem to agree with me. It’s pouring rain outside today, and inside I’m writhing in pain. I’m sitting at my work station, headphones in so I can focus on my work, because the sound of other people speaking is aggravating me. It’s not them, per say, just that when you’re in this much pain even the littlest things piss you off.

rainingI wish I could be home! I really should be in bed, doped up and watching old Supernatural episodes… but I’m not. I can’t miss any more work until the end of June, unless it is prearranged and I have worked out make up hours with my boss. If I should miss time, I lose my insurance. As someone who relies on medication and Drs to function, I really should have insurance.

I have taken half off the last oxycodone I have, and am waiting for a call from my Dr to refill my tramadol. I’m nearing tears, but I’m holding it together. I am still coughing and recovering from bronchitis, and emotionally drained from the dramatic break up week with “Rain”. My youngest is with her dad this week, as my sitter ended her services on Monday and I can’t start her at a new place until next week. I’m broke, tired, sick, and sad. Another down in my lovely rollercoaster life. How far will this drop be? How far up will my next recovery go? When do I get sunshine?

How long is it going to rain?

No More Him…

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I have just done something that used to provoke anxiety in me, but has now made me feel free and as though a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

I deleted every text, email, etc that I had from Dead Horse (Jeff) in my email. They are ALL gone. I have removed all his emails, phone numbers, etc from all of my contacts and eliminated all social networking connections we had.

This may not seem like a big deal to most people, but to me it is. I have removed the words that he wrote to me from my life completely. Every “I love you”, “Fuck you”, and any other emotion I was holding onto… are gone. Every. Single. One. I did a search in my system, and every email or text that even mentioned his name is also gone. And here is why.

I have been thinking less and less about the Dead Horse, which is such a relief. There are times I realized I haven’t even though about him in over a week. I haven’t had him be the star of one of my dreams for quite some time. Until last night. It was SUCH an unpleasant dream, and I woke feeling isolated, shunned, exposed, and hurt. frustrated-business-woman-stuck-box-isolated-7145177 I went through many emotions during my vivid night time expression of emotion. I was shoved in a box, thrown out of a car, hugged, pushed, shamed, and at one point I was sobbing naked in front of his whole family. I choked out reasons behind my failure to be what he wanted, expressing my own personal hatred for my illness, and begging them not to judge me while Dead Horse took off with his new gf. I cried and cried about my illness. I apologized for not being able to keep up. They all told me that he was better off with someone “normal”. That I was “bad for him” because of how much time and energy I was and would suck out of his life. That he deserved better than someone of my “caliber”. Someone who can be active, doesn’t have the emotional and physical limitations I have, and doesn’t come from my same family history. At one point they were shoving me inside a small car while I asked for at least my clothes back, but they all insisted I just leave. Bare chest and all.

I could feel the pain that he had caused me during and after our relationship. I felt the burn inside me that only he had ever caused me to feel, as well as the ache and loss that I felt every time he told me he didn’t want what he “knew” I wanted. Every time he walked out the door because he thought we might “fight” that night. The nights I spent alone crying in my bed while he was home watching basketball and getting drunk instead of helping me through such a difficult time that is chronic illness diagnostics. Of course, I was feeling run down, emotional, and not “physical” at all, so why would he spend time with me when I was being such a downer, right? All of these feelings rushed through me while I fought myself to wake up. I knew I was dreaming, and all I wanted was to let go of all these emotions that obviously still linger inside me. I had to, and have to let it go!

When I woke up I was nearly in tears. I was flat on my back, and I could hear my girls playing and fighting downstairs. I stared at the ceiling trying to fight off the useless emotions that were flowing through me. My WHOLE body ached, and I couldn’t help but have quick thoughts of how it might be better to be a vegetable than what I am right now. stock-footage-portrait-of-sad-and-unhappy-woman-crying-laying-in-bed-in-bedroom-pensive-girl-uhd-ultra-hd-k Maybe numb from the neck down… but that honestly sounds more miserable than what I am going through right now. I would hate to not be able to slap a bitch. lol – Reaching over for my phone, the lights were blinking like crazy. I had so many texts, notifications, snapchats, etc. Hmmm… I will check them all later, I only cared about the ones from Rain. “Yeah.. I thought about you quite a bit.” and “Mmmm… another whole day?!?” – Rain had gone out with some friends the night before, and I had sent him some enticing texts. We have a date tomorrow night, and I am glad to see that he is still just as eager as I am. This started to pull me out of the hurt I was still experiencing from my dream. The sound of my children downstairs, numerous texts and social interactions waiting to occur, and the texts from Rain reminded me that I am still a person. I am still me, though I felt shoved around and pushed away due to my needs, especially in my dream. Jeff… all I felt was hurt, betrayal, and cruelty. The pain when he cheated on me. The hurt when I found out about his numerous lies. The rejection and betrayal when he replaced me within 14 days of our 2 year relationship ending. I pictured myself standing bare and exposed in front of everyone just pleading for them to see ME! To see that I was trying to be what he needed, and even what I needed, but falling short due to things outside of my control. THIS is what hurt the most. Being so exposed, and so rejected.

All day today I have been feeling off. I have been feeling low, and the aches throbbing through me are not helping. Since I sprained my ankle on Sunday, I used crutches for a few days. Apparently these crutches caused some deep bruising and issues in my arm pits, and I have since developed both pain and a few small cysts. pain-woman1 Even my clothing rubbing against the tender tissue sends shooting pains through me. What would he have thought of my arm pit pain? Would it be just another inconvenience? Another reason to roll his eyes and go home? Would he once again tell me that it is in my head, and I should have a better attitude? That I would probably be better if I just wasn’t so negative! – I cringe at the thought. I thought about all the feelings and pain I kept to myself just so I didn’t push too much emotion on his shoulders. I wanted him with me, I wanted to SEE him, so I knew I had to keep certain things in. I had to watch certain shows. Drink certain drinks. Even discuss certain topics. Why did I do that to myself? Why did I push myself around so much for someone who was mistreating me behind the scenes? Who was reading each and every text that I ever sent. Every email that I both sent and received. He hacked into my facebook, my work email, my personal email, etc. He hated friends and family for what I thought was no reason, but later found was misguided opinions of texts and other interactions I had with them. I pushed a handful of people out of my life for him because they made him uncomfortable. Of course that stemmed from chats from long time friends telling me I was lovely, and a good catch, etc.

About an hour ago I logged into my email to see if my sister had sent over some pictures she wants me to upload, and I noticed his name on the left side of my screen. article-1175013-0499B8A7000005DC-375_468x325 Why on earth do I still have him in my chat list? I right clicked, and removed. Then it hit me… I still had almost EVERY interaction we had ever had in my emails. Work chats with him, home chats with him, emails, texts, photos, etc. Why? Why did I still have these? WHAT is the purpose? Doing a search for his name, I started deleting. Pulling things with every keyword I could possibly think of that would bring up something from/to him. DELETE. Over and over and over again! I found THOUSANDS upon THOUSANDS of internet interaction and removed them. I then went and extra removed them by deleting them from my trash. I searched and searched until I could not find one thing left. It felt amazing. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders when I finally realized that I had no choice to go and read his words. His loving words, casual words, and most of all his hateful words. The manipulative way he would talk down on himself for sympathy. For me to come to the rescue and show him that he was wanted. The strange things he would bring up for no reason, and the odd fights they would start. As if he wanted to spend time away from me just to be away. NO MORE. No more him. No more us. No more. No more Jeff Hebert.

No more… Jeff… no more dead horse. His words are gone, and I couldn’t feel better about it. I never knew deleting digital communication would feel so freeing.

I got this…

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Clumsiness. Such a bad thing when it comes to people who are easily injured. I happen to be entirely clumsy, and often end up stepping on things, dropping things, and best of all… falling down. On Sunday while I was out to breakfast with Rain and my girls, I had a fight with a rock. No.. not a rock. A pebble. I am ashamed to say that I literally stepped on a small pebble, which took my down to my knees and caused a small tear in my left ankle ligament. How brilliant am I? It was not only painful, but so very embarrassing for me for Rain to have to come and help me up. I writhed in pain, and held back tears (which come on, I am SO used to pain I could hold back tears for days!) while we headed back to my house.

46-woman-wrapping-sprained-ankle-lgn-91242505 Rain had come over the night before, and we had a lovely evening. He came over a bit early so we could prevent as much “curiosity” peeking from the girls by him meeting them and hanging around for a bit. They adore him. This both makes me nervous, but is also comforting at the same time. I have had many friends, both male and female, who have come and spent quite a bit of time and then faded out. People come and go out of your lives, and though I have been so protective over my lovelies hearts, I feel at this point it is better for them to see that engaging with the opposite sex is not just for boyfriend/girlfriend situations. Rain and I have known each other for almost a month, so we are not even fully acquainted yet… though… we did get “acquainted” with each other that night. Quite acquainted. And it was fantastic.

During the drive home, Rain rolled down the windows to let some fresh air in because, though I was holding back tears, I was not doing such a good job at not breathing fast and heavy. The cool air felt great on my fingertips, and distracted me from my ankle. That was.. until he rolled them up. Without me noticing. Until it was too late! I was able to pull my hand in without scathing, except my poor little pinky finger. So here I am, ankle swelling and throbbing in pain, and now my pinky is bleeding. What a lovely end to a lovely date. The look on Rain’s face was nothing short of magical guilt. He insisted that he cancel all his plans and take care of the poor sick girl. I was quite tempted to just send him on his way, take care of myself, and wallow in self pity. While he was getting an icepack, getting my ankle propped up, and ensuring I was comfortable I considered the reasons to say no. Pride. That was it. Pride would prevent me from allowing him to take care of me. Guilt. The guilt of needing someone to take care of me, and being so very fragile at this point that it can be almost a requirement. I wanted to just sit on my couch and cry. I always feel so vulnerable and weak when these things happen to me. 200167732-002 I have always been a bit clumsy, and this is probably the 3rd time I have torn those same ligaments since I was a teenager, but I could take care of myself back then. I did not need someone to help me, because I could hop on one foot all I needed. Crutches didn’t ache in my armpits, and cause my hands to swell. My hips didn’t throb, and my whole body didn’t flare up. I knew I was going to end up fully exhausted, miserable, and in pain for the next few days simply because I was hurt. Why shouldn’t I let a caring, affectionate, worried man take care of me? No realistic reason. I reluctantly agreed, and hoped that it didn’t end up scaring him away. Chronic illness is serious, and having things shoved in your face can frighten anyone. Especially someone I barely know.

He took care of me. He kissed my face, played with my hair, and snuggled me. He listened to my body when it negatively reacted, and also when it positively reacted. He kept me safe from my over excited, crazy little minions; ensuring that they stayed away from my leg while I napped, but also teasing me about my law mower snore. RUDE! I didn’t know I snored so bad, but I am sure that it was the swelling of my insides in general from the injuries, not to mention the allergies of spring. He stayed for over 6 hours, doting to my every need and taking SUCH great care of me. When he left I was sad, but so pleased that he had been so good to me. He took an awful thing and turned my day back around. I am fond of Rain.

This week has also been rough. My body has been flaring due to the accident, and I have been so stressed. I had updates left and right with clients. Escalations all over the place, not to mention taking care of my own random client upsets. I was half awake, my mind has been working in slow motion, and my body was fighting itself off. By Tuesday afternoon I was so worn out that I accidentally double dosed myself on my mood stabilizer instead of my gabapentin. woman-medication-worried-200x300 In my defense, the bottles look almost identical and I was on the phone with a client. I was distracted, and I hurt myself. I only noticed about 10 minutes later when I went to reach for my inhaler and realized that my limictal bottle was at the top of my purse and not the gabapentin. Faaaaantastic. I quickly Googled the effects of what would happen at the dosage I had taken, and saw that I could quickly lose control of my cognitive function, as well as my hand eye coordination. I banged my head on my desk and considered my options. It was about 3:55pm, and I get off at 5. By that time I could have lost all control over my basic functions, and will likely not be able to drive, let alone walk. I kicked myself mentally over and over again for about 5 minutes, and then I left work. I informed my babysitter I was coming, and to have my girls ready. Let my boss know I had drugged myself, and would put myself in danger if I did not leave for home. I felt like such an idiot, but it was what it was, and I just need to remember that I rarely do that. I think this is only the 3rd time in 3 years. Not too bad of a track record, right?

Tuesday was my Rheumatologist appointment, and I was so scared! I was worried about the pain it would put me through, and the results he would find. I want him to find and help with every bit of me that is wrong, but I also don’t want to find something that is not fixable. I was also terrified that he would tell me I was crazy, and send me on my way. This did not happen at all, which was a huge relief. I would like to write a post that goes through my first appointment all on it’s own, so I am going to skip including it in this post. Let’s just say it was painful, but it also went well.

Today is Friday, and tonight I am spending the evening with my lovely Kindred Spirit, and her babies. I am so excited, I can barely contain it. She recently had a beautiful baby girl (about 3 months ago), and has two others. We have known my KS for about 6 years, and she is such a wonderful addition to my life. I wish I saw her more, but we are both full time working moms, I have my illness, and she has her new baby. We were pregnant together when I had my last minion, and our babies have been friends their whole lives. They hear each others names and go bizerk! She is coming with her lovely family, and a bottle of wine. We are all going to snuggle in front of the TV for my weekly ritual (over 4 years now) of movie night Friday and watch Frozen. The kids will pile up on each other on the blanket, my teenager will coo over baby P, while KS and I catch up and laugh the same way we always do. Sunday is Easter, and I get to spend the morning and afternoon with my babies, and then have a date with Rain while my kids go to their grandma’s. I am hoping this week brings nothing but happiness, and I am able to rest my poor body. I have many joyous things in my life right now. Many things to love and smile over. It was just a tough week… but I am a tough girl.

I got this.

The Enemy of All Things Good…

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Anxiety. This is the enemy of all things good. Feeling anxious about anything can lead to a domino effect of anxiety beyond control! Today my anxiety is high. I have been so sick recently, and I have been trying to ignore it. I wonder if it is all in my head like some people are trying to convince me it is. Does my mind create this pain because I think it is there, or does my brain create it on it’s own and I am just responding? I can’t tell what is causing this flare, or what it is really effecting. I want to sleep for days, but I am in too much pain to wind down. If I take pain meds, my body is still buzzing from the nerves, and I can’t relax. I must move. Adjust. Change position and get comfortable. My hands hurt. Feet. Now it’s my knees. My elbows. New nodules in my hand. Only things that I notice, and people don’t see any difference. These are not my hands. These are not my feet. This is not how my body looks. This is a completely foreign place I live, and it continues to change without warning.

Due to the feelings I have been having, and the flare that seems to just be spreading through my entire form, I finally made an appointment with a Rheumatologist. 42-23789836_rf-d-ar2 (1) I am both hopeful, but anxious as hell. What if he doesn’t believe me? What if he tells me the same thing I have been told all along and he can’t help me? I am so afraid of what will happen. Recently I went back to my gyno due to severe cramps and other menstrual issues. Ultrasound. Blood work. Anxiety. What did we find? Small cysts on both ovaries, and a slightly thicker endometrium than normal. ALMOST endometriosis. Nothing they can do for now except put me on small bursts of birth control and hope it helps. I have issues with birth control. I have EVERY side effect, and even went into early menopause because of one. My hair started falling out at age 27. I was not happy. I am NOT doing that again. So what can we do at this time? Nothing.

On top of all this stress, my children are ALL going through new phases. My 7 year old has become a klepto. My 13 year old is teenage drama up the WAZOO! My 4 year old is going through a hitting and kicking phase. That kid can kick some ASS. None of any of this is good. This results in extra work from my already exhausted body and mind. I am all alone, with nobody to help me teach babies what they should and should not do. I am doing the best I can, but the results are slower. All the while I am getting meetings with the junior high. Returning items and making the child apologize. Reports from the babysitter on the violent actions of my giant toddler. In short, it is rough.

two-girls-whisperingThere has been whispers going on all around me. Whispers about my illness, how I handle my kids, my life, my SEX life. I made the mistake of sleeping with a coworker a few weeks ago. (Sorry, this man is sexy as fack) He made the mistake of telling the biggest mouth in the office, who then went to my friend and informed her he knew. The chatter isn’t bad, but I hate it. To have people look me straight in the eye and then turn around and talk about what I do and do not do in my spare time is beyond annoying. I kinda wanna punch the world in the face right now. Then cry. And hide. Be alone, but somehow snuggled at the same time. Do they make adult sized swaddle blankets soaked in men’s cologne. Instead of a heartbeat, just a soothing voice saying, “It’s ok! You can do this. Shhhhhh… don’t worry. This too shall pass. You are loved.”

No. So, anxiety is high today. My hope is low. I want to go home, yet I have 4 more hours here and then the chaos that is my family. Love. Nothing but love for them.. but what about love for me? When is it my turn?